


Cherry Pop [B-Side]

by teatimetaemint



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: AND A NIPPLE PIERCING, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Apprentice Hyunjin, Chan is struggling, Friends to Lovers, Jisung has a tongue piercing, Jisung looking tiny in Chan's hoodies, M/M, Minchan and Jilix are best friends, Mutual Pining, Roommates, Slow Burn, Tattoo Artist Bang Chan, Tattoos and Piercings, University Student Jisung, caps weren't my doing but they're a mood, tattoo artist Minho, tattooed Chan, the author may have made this softer than intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28055661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teatimetaemint/pseuds/teatimetaemint
Summary: “You have a special style when it comes to your designs for him.”That was news to Chan and he found himself at a momentary loss for words as his brain tried to work through the unexpected revelation. Before he could even begin to come to terms with it, Minho’s eyes lit up with an alarming amount of mischief. It was an expression Chan had learned to fear a long time ago.“I call it ‘absolutely whipped’ with a sprinkle of love sickness and bumbling adoration.”Or: Chan is trying to figure out the perfect tattoo for Jisung. Jisung is waiting for Chan to figure out much more than that.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han
Comments: 54
Kudos: 288
Collections: A thousand memories and a million more to come





	Cherry Pop [B-Side]

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SKZMemories](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SKZMemories) collection. 



> Rated for language and naked cuddling, warnings for brief mentions of needles and insomnia. I think that's it, but please let me know if there's anything else I should mention here. Changbin, Seungmin and Jeongin are only mentioned, sorry guys!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

"Jisung, wake up."

Nothing.

The boy sleeping with his head pillowed on Chan’s lap didn’t even stir, the rhythm of his breathing and relaxed expression on his face completely unchanged. But then it wasn't as if Chan had expected much from his first several attempts to wake Jisung. The kid could sleep through pretty much everything - his alarm, his _back-up_ alarm, Chan blasting his music whenever he was stuck with one of his sketches, the sounds of Chan's neighbors going at it like energizer bunnies at 3 am in the morning.

"Seriously, kid. Move your ass," Chan tried again, a bit louder this time, before he gave the younger man’s full cheek a little poke. "Your seven pm class starts in twenty minutes.”

That got him nothing more than a displeased grumble, before Jisung squirmed impossibly closer and pressed his face against the flat plane of Chan's stomach. It had something in his chest pulling almost uncomfortably tight and he allowed himself one soft stroke of Jisung’s nape, before pulling back and taking a deep breath.

“If you don’t get up I’m ratting you out to Minho. Let’s see what he has to say about you skipping class.”

Jisung was sitting upright within seconds and Chan wasn’t sure if he should feel satisfied at his success or insulted that it had taken the threat of Minho’s wrath to get him moving.

“That’s just cruel, Chan. He’ll refuse to cook for me again and then we’ll both have to go back to eating instant ramen every day.”

The younger man’s voice was hoarse, hair tousled and cheeks extra puffy from his nap, as he blinked blearily up at Chan, who had risen as soon as the weight of Jisung’s head had been lifted off his thighs. Wincing slightly at the feeling of his legs slowly coming awake again, he gave the younger man his blandest stare.

“Life is cruel. Maybe it’s time you learned that lesson, kid.”

Chan’s words had Jisung’s lips pushing out in a subtle pout and nose scrunching up with disapproval. It was enough to have his heart give a fond lurch.

"God, you're adorable, you know that?" The words came completely unbidden, sprouting from that ridiculously soft spot he had for the younger man and his puffed out cheeks, whenever he was especially sleepy or happy about something. But it wasn't as if he could ever regret voicing them out loud, when they had a visible thrill of happiness shooting through Jisung - eyes going wide, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink and that slim body shivering in delight. The same way he always reacted whenever Chan slipped up and showed the true extent of his fondness.

Reaching out, he carefully combed his fingers through Jisung's blond hair, straightening out the few unruly tufts from his nap. Before he could draw back again, Jisung's fingers were curling around his wrist and pulling it downwards, until his hand was cupping the side of the younger man's face. With a content sigh, the kid nuzzled into Chan's palm and the flare of warmth in his chest almost had him giving in like the pushover he truly was when it came to Jisung. It was becoming increasingly harder to keep himself in check around the younger man.

Looking at him now, all tousled hair, sleepily trusting eyes and slender, but leanly muscled limbs, Chan couldn't help thinking back to the day he'd first met the kid three years ago. Jisung, a college freshman at the time, had been so painfully shy, but determined not to let it show. He’d clearly been there to provide moral support for his best friend, who’d gotten his first tattoo from Chan that day. And sitting there, quiet like a mouse and eyes impossibly wide as he’d watched Chan tattoo the song quote onto Felix’s wrist, like he was performing some kind of elaborate magic, the kid had tugged at something inside of him he hadn’t even been aware existed. But he’d written it off, shoved it aside and ignored it as he ignored everything that didn’t fit in with his solitary lifestyle. Until he’d looked up from his work station two weeks later, ready to greet his five pm appointment and watched the kid walk in. His steps had been hesitant and quiet, despite the clunky pair of boots he was wearing, hands buried in the pockets of his black, ripped jeans and his eyes had hungrily taken in his surroundings.

An hour later he’d finished piercing both of Jisung’s ears and was somehow spending his break explaining a few of his sketches to the kid, instead of working on more designs as he usually did. Minho had kept on giving him partly stunned, partly delighted looks from where he’d been stenciling the outlines of a floral tattoo onto the bulging bicep of his client and Chan had done his best to ignore his best friend and business partner completely. It had only worked until the shop had cleared of customers, but he’d given it his best shot.

He still wasn’t sure how Jisung had managed to quietly - or not-so-quietly, once he’d gotten over his initial shyness - worm his way into Chan’s life after that. He’d gone from occasionally visiting him in his shop, to having Chan buy him dinner at least once a week, to spending most of his free time lazing around on the couch in Chan’s apartment over the shop or keeping him company while he worked.

Three years later and Jisung had become such a permanent, important part of his life, he could barely remember how things had been before he’d stumbled his way into Chan’s shop.

“You’re gonna be really late.”

Chan’s voice had Jisung straightening with a long-suffering sigh and last nuzzle into his palm and Chan softly ran his fingers over the helix stud in the kid’s ear. It was a kind of reflex at this point – the same way Jisung liked to trace the edges of the older man's full sleeve tattoos on his wrists. It was a habit so ingrained, Chan often didn’t even notice he was doing it, until Jisung leaned into him with a tiny pleased sound in the back of his throat.

“Remind me why I thought taking a seven pm class would be a good idea?”

Jisung sounded grumpy, still half asleep and Chan couldn’t pretend he wasn’t thinking about settling back down on the couch, so Jisung could snuggle close again. But he wouldn’t. He wasn’t _that_ far gone yet.

“You mentioned something about rather chewing off your own arm than taking a class before ten am and that was the only other alternative.”

“Right. Well, I hope Seungmin and Jeongin saved me a seat.” Breathing out another hearty sigh, Jisung pushed himself into a standing position, leaning in barely a second later. It took Chan an additional moment to realize what was going on and so he just barely managed to duck out of range of Jisung’s pursed lips. He usually had to be very distracted or in a particularly indulgent mood to let the other man plant one of his infamous kisses on him. Not that it prevented the kid from trying on a daily basis. Just as he didn’t look the least bit discouraged now, happy smile still firmly in place. “I should be back home a bit after nine.”

 _Home_. A thrill went through Chan at the word. Because even though it wasn’t technically accurate, it might as well have been. It took all of the older man’s willpower to keep his voice carefully neutral when he answered. “Do you think your roommate would even recognize you if you showed up at your dorm one of these days?”

“Questionable. And I’m sure all the alcohol and weed aren’t helping with the spotty memory,” Jisung replied, teeth flashing as he gave Chan one of those grins that always had him feeling just a little bit weak in the knees. While Chan was dealing with his unruly heartbeat, Jisung shouldered his backpack and then he was shooting out of the apartment with a hasty goodbye thrown over his shoulder. “I’ll get dinner on the way back!”

For a few moments Chan just stood there, staring at the spot where Jisung had disappeared, feeling that ever-present fondness and a quiet, creeping kind of worry warring in his chest. For all of Jisung’s joking, he thought his previous question was actually a valid concern. He really couldn’t remember the last time Jisung had spent the night at his own place – not that Chan was complaining. He liked having him around, had gotten so used to his quietly cheeky presence beside him, that he knew he’d actually feel lonely without him showing up at his place every day.

Which was quite the astonishing – and worrying – turn of events for someone who’d been perfectly fine on his own for most of his adult life. He’d moved out of his parents’ place at seventeen and never looked back. Sure, he’d always had Minho and Changbin at his side, his two best friends had his back since they’d been children. But both of them were used to Chan’s loner tendencies, barely batting an eye when he disappeared for several days, just to pop back up without a warning. Opening his own business with Minho had somehow forced him into regular contact with _other human beings_ , but that was different. That was work.

Jisung on the other hand was neither a childhood friend nor did he have anything do to with work – despite the fact that he was a walking advertisement for the piercing side of his and Minho’s business. Or the fact that he spent almost as much time at the shop as Hyunjin, the young man Minho and Chan had taken on as an apprentice after they’d made a name for themselves and business had picked up enough for them to pay off their small loan.

Jisung was _special_ , had swooped into Chan’s life and claimed a certain part of his heart all for himself. But Chan neither led a particularly exciting life, nor did he have the interesting personality to make up for it. He was just plain old Chan, an ordinary tattoo artist who liked to work out and listen to music in his free time, dealt with his emotions by ignoring them completely and regularly operated on two to fours of sleep because insomnia was a fucking bitch. And it worried Chan. That Jisung might eventually decide he wasn't worth all his time and vanish from his life as quickly as he’d appeared.

Chan wasn’t sure how he would deal with that. Wasn’t sure if he’d be able to just go back to the way things had been before the kid had crash-landed in his life. But he had the creeping suspicion that it would be even harder than he feared.

⧫⧫⧫

It might have been a while since the last time he’d gone out of his way to find someone to hook up with, but that didn’t mean Chan had lost the ability to figure out when someone was flirting with him. And he was pretty sure this was one of those moments, only underlined by the way Hyunjin kept on giving him exaggerated winks and thumb ups from where he was cleaning up Chan’s station on the other side of the room. So yes, Chan was 98% sure the woman in front of him was currently flirting with him, as he listed the available dates for their next appointment – eyes sparkling, full lips curled up at one side and leaning towards him over the counter. She was gorgeous – there was no other way to put it – and Chan wondered how it was possible to feel that uninterested in the face of such physical perfection.

And it wasn’t just that. She’d been one of his chattier clients, keeping a comfortable conversation going between them in a way that had made it easy even for Chan to contribute. He wasn’t usually the type for small-talk, more comfortable when he could work in silence, but she’d been so unapologetically interested in Chan’s life, so ready to share her own – admittedly fascinating and entertaining – stories that he’d actually enjoyed the almost non-stop chatter. So on top of those stellar looks she was also outgoing in a way that seemed amicable, rather than pushy, open to all kinds of things, judging by the variety of stories she’d told him while he’d tattooed an entire constellation of stars onto her hip, and whip-smart from what Chan could tell.

And still he found himself looking at her with a kind of detached appreciation that was almost puzzling.

“So which one do you want to tackle next, the sun or moon piece?”

“Hmmm...,” looking up from their appointment book, Chan found her tapping her slim finger to those full, glossed lips and waited for the stirring of heat in his stomach that never came. “I heard rib tattoos hurt like a bitch.”

“It’s definitely one of the more sensitive places. Lots of bones,” Chan confirmed with a sympathetic smile and watched her pout her lips in a way that seemed completely unintentional. “But you practically breezed through that hip tattoo, so I think you’ll do fine with the one on your ribs as well. And compared to that the thigh piece is going to seem like a piece of cake.”

Clearly cheered up by Chan’s assessment, her answering smile was bright enough to blind, as she leaned towards him by another degree. “Alright, let’s get the sun tattoo on my ribs out of the way then. No use saving it for last.”

“That’s the spirit.”

_Park Jeonghwa, rib tattoo_

Marking her name down for the right time slot and hoping Hyunjin would be able to decode his handwriting when he transferred the info to their online schedule later, he didn’t hear Jisung approach. In the end it was pure pride - and his experience with being snuck up on after almost fifteen years of friendship with Minho - that kept him from jumping out of his skin at the sudden feeling of a chest pressing up against his back. Because there was nothing even remotely detached about the way his heartbeat stuttered at the feeling of Jisung’s hands settling on his waist. Turning his head to the side, he bumped noses with Jisung, as the younger man hooked his chin over his shoulder at the same moment. Chan didn’t ask what the kid was doing, simply raised an eyebrow at him and wasn’t all that surprised when the only response he got was for Jisung to nuzzle into the curve between his neck and shoulder. Somehow managing not to lean into the hug, Chan turned back to his customer.

He knew what kind of conclusion Jeonghwa had come to when she straightened out of her leaned over position with just the hint of a blush on her defined cheekbones. Chan didn’t feel the need to correct her.

“So I’ll see you on the 27th,” Chan said and handed over their business card with the date and time for their next appointment scribbled onto the back. He thought he pulled off the pleasant smile quite well, despite his heart going a little bit crazy inside his chest.

“Right.” For a second her gaze darted over to Jisung, before she seemed to catch herself and turned her attention back towards Chan. The smile on her face still read as genuine, but all flirtatiousness was gone from her demeanor. “Uhm, thanks for today. The tattoo looks great.”

“No problem. And like I said, you held up like a champ. I was much less stoic for my first tattoo.”

The sound of her tinkling laughter followed the young woman out of the shop and the second they were alone again, Jisung detached himself from Chan’s back to lean against the counter next to him instead. His face was carefully blank and it took the older man a few seconds to shift his attention from the sudden loss of warmth at his back to the man’s peculiar behavior.

“So what was that about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jisung was a talented kid, good at way too many things, but lying definitely wasn’t among his countless talents. The way he avoided Chan’s eyes was a dead giveaway, staring intently at the appointment book in front of the older man instead. So was the way he was restlessly clacking his tongue piercing against the back of teeth.

“Bullshit.” Chan didn’t raise his voice, neither was there any venom or real sharpness to his tone, but even like this he watched Jisung shrink into himself at the word. “I know I let you get away with all of that in private, but we talked about doing the koala thing in front of other people, _especially_ customers.”

At that Jisung opened his mouth as if to reply, before he clamped it shut with a downright defiant expression blooming across his face.

“Jisung.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Chan had never heard anyone sound less sorry in his entire life. But before he had the chance to call the younger man out on it, Minho stepped out from the back rooms, supplies stacked high in his arms and Jisung all but teleported to his side, proclaiming loudly that he was there to help.

And Chan just stood there, ears hot and heart still beating an uncomfortably fast rhythm in his chest. He was trying really hard to convince himself he hadn’t enjoyed the hug a little too much. _So much for boundaries and getting my reactions to the kid under control._

From somewhere behind him the sound of Hyunjin’s badly suppressed laughter had him stifling a despairing sigh and for once he didn’t even bother to flip his pest of an employee off.

⧫⧫⧫

When Chan entered the living room of his apartment later that night, after closing the shop downstairs, Jisung was sprawled out like a starfish on the couch, looking extra small in what Chan immediately recognized as one of his own hoodies. The kid had disappeared rather quickly after the koala incident, escaping upstairs while Chan had been in the middle of a consultation. Now he was giving the older man the sunniest, most innocent smile, as if absolutely nothing had happened, when Chan came to a stop in front of the couch. Jisung’s eyes crinkled at the corners, his cheeks looked cute enough to bite and Chan was weak – he was so fucking weak – so he simply motioned for the younger man to make some room for him. Jisung gave him exactly three seconds to settle down, before he was moving in again so they were pressed together from their thighs all the way up to their shoulders.

“You’re later than usual.”

“Had a walk in customer right before closing.”

“Ah.” The sound of acknowledgement was barely audible, as Jisung wiggled around against his side until he found a position he seemed to like. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah, Hyunjin went to grab a couple of subs for us around seven. He would have brought you one as well, but you mysteriously vanished into thin air and weren’t answering your phone.”

“Hmmm,” came Jisung’s noncommittal reply, eyes focused on the TV even though Chan doubted he was actually interested in the dog food commercial. “I was studying for one of my classes and I might have fallen asleep ten minutes into it.”

“Were you actually a sloth in your previous life? Is that why you sleep so much?”

“I can’t help it! Math always puts me to sleep.”

“So why’d you take the class in the first place?”

“No other choice. I put it off as long as I could, but I need to take it if I want to graduate at the end of the next semester.”

“Sucks.”

“Tell me about it,” Jisung shot back with a dramatic groan and turned his face to press it into Chan’s shoulder. “It makes my brain hurt. And not in a good way.”

At the moment the kid reminded him of a grumpy kitten, all messy hair, badly masked whines and unapologetic touches that demanded all of Chan’s attention. He was already reaching out and straightening the younger man’s hair before he had the chance to show any kind of restraint. And since the damage had already been done, he let himself trace his finger over the piercings in Jisung’s ear as well. It had the younger man humming into Chan’s shoulder with a tiny, happy wiggle.

“There’s a good way for your brain to hurt?” Chan asked, smile in his voice. In truth he knew what Jisung was talking about. The kind of brain numbing exhaustion that set in after finishing an especially complex or large piece could be satisfying as hell sometimes.

Another quiet hum was the only reply he got.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” Jisung sounded lazy – the kind of sluggish contentment that meant the other man wouldn’t be getting up from the couch anytime soon. Chan could definitely get behind that sentiment.

“Yeah. I should be finishing up a few designs, but I don’t think I can do it tonight,” Chan all but groaned, letting himself sink deeper into the cushions of his couch. He turned his head slightly towards the younger man when he felt his hair tickle his cheek and watched the way he was distractedly toying with the hem of Chan’s black shirt. “That walk-in customer I had? He said a friend recommended us. I recognized the name becaue I did several tattoos for her last year, so I agreed to keep the shop open a bit longer. Huge mistake. He just asked for two dates on his shoulder, but he flinched and gasped every time I got close with the tattoo gun.”

“Did he lose a dare?”

“Didn’t seem like it, but what do I know? By the time we were done, I was ready to drop-kick him out the door.”

“Guess there’s a reason you usually let Minho deal with the scared customers.”

“Yeah, he just cranks up the charm, flutters his pretty lashes and they’re usually fine. Hyunjin’s getting good at that as well, it just never works for me.”

“It’s because you’re not as pretty as they are.” There was laughter in his voice, the way it usually was when he poked fun at Chan.

“Alright, kid. You better shut up now, I don’t stand for this kind of slander.”

“At least you have abs. Maybe you can start distracting them with those. Just start tattooing with your shirt off.”

Jisung deserved the retaliation, he truly did. But reaching over and hooking his arm around the younger man’s neck to wrestle him down onto the couch turned out to be a big fucking mistake. Because Jisung put up much less of a fight than Chan had expected. Instead he simply let the older man press him down into the cushions, eyes shining with mirth as he went down while failing miserably to hold back his laughter.

Which would have been all fun and games, if Chan’s brain hadn’t decided it was the perfect moment to remind him of how fucking _good_ Jisung looked – tousled, happy and not the least bit bothered by Chan’s weight pressing him down into the couch. His eyes operated on autopilot as he zeroed in on the kid’s mouth again, but instead of focusing on his satisfied smile, he got completely hung up on his slightly chapped lips and the brief flash of his tongue piercing. Now that he was painfully aware of how small and pliant he felt beneath him, his throat suddenly felt almost too tight to draw in his next breath.

It was pure self-preservation that kept his voice miraculously steady when he finally managed to speak.

“Alright, no more free piercings for you. I don’t waste my money and time on assholes.”

“Rude,” Jisung shot back, but he was still smiling, blissfully unaware of Chan’s inner struggle, as the older man pushed himself up into a sitting position again. It wasn’t fair that the kid could look so content and happy with the world, while Chan’s self-control was busy dying seven quiet, but gruesome deaths inside of him. But with a few, safe inches of space between them, he at least managed to get his breathing back under control. If only his heart could stop hammering away in his chest, as if it was trying to exit through his throat, he’d probably be alright again.

“By the way, thanks for reminding me. I didn’t get the chance to mention it earlier, but I need an appointment,” Jisung suddenly perked up beside him. “Do you think you could squeeze me in? Next week would be best.”

He graciously decided not to remind the younger man that it would have been a lot easier to make an appointment if he hadn’t hightailed it out of the shop like a frightened squirrel with its tail on fire.

“You finally gonna let me ink you?”

“Why? Do you have a new design for me?” He knew Jisung had probably aimed for careful nonchalance, but it wasn’t enough to hide the hitch of excitement in his voice.

It was a game they’d been playing for close to two years now. After bringing the number of the kid’s piercings in his ears to a total of six, Chan had asked Jisung if he was interested in getting a tattoo as well one day. To which the younger man had immediately replied with an enthusiastic “yes”, followed by a contemplative “as soon as I find the right design”. Naturally Chan had taken it as a personal challenge to come up with the perfect piece for Jisung, but so far the younger man had cheerfully shot down every single one of his suggestions. And there had been many.

It was hard on a man’s pride.

“I’m still working on it,” Chan grumbled and ignored the widening of Jisung’s smile. “Another piercing then?”

“Yup!”

Jisung was practically beaming as he pushed himself off the couch and up on his feet into a long stretch, all of his previous lethargy vanished as if it had never been there in the first place. Meanwhile the older man tried very hard not to let his brain get hung up on how good he looked in Chan’s way too big hoodie. Nothing but turmoil and loss of sleep awaited him down that path.

“What’s it gonna be this time?”

“I think it’s time to get my bellybutton pierced.”

The head that Chan had lowered in hopes of keeping his gaze off the younger man, jerked up again like a stretched out rubber band snapping back into place, while heat burst somewhere low in his stomach. Jisung was already smiling down at him, as if he’d been waiting for the reaction. It had Chan narrowing his eyes at him in suspicion.

“Are you fucking with me?”

“Yeah.” A broad, unrepentant grin.

Chan made another grab for him, a half-assed growl rumbling up from his chest, but Jisung jumped back with a happy cackle that echoed boldly through the entire apartment. For a second he considered chasing after the brat, but ultimately decided it wasn’t worth getting off the couch. Instead he just aimed a sharp glare at the younger man and watched him carefully tiptoe closer again.

“Sorry,” Jisung surrendered, looking the opposite of regretful as he unsuccessfully hid his smile and clacked his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth, his tell back to betray him once again. It was something that drove Chan a little bit closer to the edge of his sanity every time he was there to witness it. “I was actually thinking about getting a nipple piercing.”

It was in that moment, with his stomach giving another violent swoop and heat crawling up the back of his neck, that Chan realized he was fucked. He was so incredibly fucked.

⧫⧫⧫

Jisung and Felix were both sitting on his bed when Chan stepped out of the bathroom, damp towel slung across his neck to catch the water dripping from the tips of his wet hair. It was a much more peaceful sight than the one he’d been greeted with when he’d entered the apartment an hour ago. He hadn’t exactly been surprised to find Jisung and Felix using his couch as a makeshift stage to rap and dance to a song he didn’t recognize. What had been way more surprising was the fact that his neighbors hadn’t complained about the noise yet.

Now they looked almost suspiciously docile. Jisung was sitting cross-legged amidst his blankets, with Felix draped over his back. His chin rested on Jisung’s shoulder and they were both looking up at him in a way that reminded him of two sleepy, hopeful puppies. A lesser man might have given in and cooed at the sight.

“Whatever it is you want,” Chan murmured, as he draped his towel over the back of his desk chair, knowing perfectly well why the two men were currently waiting for him in his bed, “the answer is no.”

“But Chan,” Felix immediately piped up, quieting down again the second Chan fixed him with a narrow-eyed glance over his shoulder. His lips were pushed out in a slight, disappointed frown, while Jisung just looked at him out of impossibly big eyes. It was enough to have Chan’s resolve wavering just the tiniest bit.

_Fucking hell._

It was embarrassing and infuriating at the same time, to have his total lack of restraint thrown in his face for what seemed like the hundredth time alone this week. Chan was known for being a stubborn bastard when he wanted to be, but all of his self-control simply crumbled out from under him, every time he had the kid looking at him like that. And Lee Felix and his way too pretty face certainly weren’t helping.

Trying to hold on to the last, pathetic remains of his resolve, Chan purposefully kept his back turned towards the duo on the bed, double checking the time of his first appointment for the next day and setting up his alarm accordingly. And all the while he could feel Jisung and Felix’s hopeful gazes like a physical touch to the back of his head. He had the “no means no” ready on the tip of tongue, but what came out of his mouth when he eventually turned around was a long-suffering “I’m not sleeping in the middle” instead.

Both faces lit up with the same delighted expression, as they scrambled to get under the blankets and after a quick but vicious wrestling match Felix ended up with his back towards the wall, his face pressed against Jisung’s arms and one leg slung over the younger man’s hip. With the two best friends cuddled close like that, there was plenty of room for Chan on Jisung’s other side. With a short, but audible sigh – in an effort to hold back the smile that was tugging at his lips at the sight – he walked over to the door, flipped down the light switch and then made his way to the bed.

The little sound of protest when Chan settled down with several inches between him and the pair of pups was Jisung’s, but the hand curling into the front of his tank and dragging him closer, completely ignoring his squawk of protest, definitely belonged to Felix.

“Listen brat, you’re one second away from being thrown out of this bed. Don’t test me.”

Neither of the two paid the hissed threat any mind. He could feel Jisung turning his head around until his face was properly nestled into the curve of Chan’s neck, while Felix’s hand boldly stayed where it was.

“You really have no idea how this comfort-cuddles thing works. You have to at least be close enough to touch. We talked about this, Christopher.” As always Felix’s voice was deep enough to sound like far away thunder, but for once it was filled with exasperation, as if he was talking to an uncooperative child.

“You and Jisung already became one person over there, what do you need me for as well? Just let me sleep.”

“That’s the beauty of it, you can cuddle and sleep at the same time.”

Chan didn’t bother with another retort. Arguing with Felix was usually as productive as banging his head against a wall. He resigned himself to sleeping with his side pressed against the furnace that was Jisung’s body and let out another long-suffering huff, just so the two brats knew he was _not_ happy with this situation.

And if his heart gave a little squeeze when Jisung found Chan’s hand with his own and lightly tangled their fingers in the darkness of the room, no one was the wiser.

⧫⧫⧫

Jisung looked like the definition of relaxed, as he shrugged out of his soft, green t-shirt and shook out his hair to settle the lightly ruffled strands. Not at all like someone who was a few minutes away from having a needle pierced through one of his nipples, and with a sinking feeling in his stomach Chan realized he was more nervous than the kid. The sight of all that smooth skin certainly wasn’t helping, making the older man’s fingers itch with the need to reach out and touch.

Han Jisung was the most tempting and beautiful blank canvas imaginable and the artist in Chan was chomping at the bit just looking at all that untouched skin.

“How has he not let you ink him yet? Are you sure you’re even trying?” Hyunjin’s voice was deceptively cheerful, but one look at the younger man standing next to him, long-limbed and hair tied up into a little ponytail, was enough to reveal the mirth lurking in his eyes. Chan knew Hyunjin was just trying to get a rise out of him. He also had to admit that it was kind of working. “I don’t know how you can look at all that glorious skin day in, day out and not go crazy knowing he won’t let you tattoo him. You’ve been striking out for almost two years now. It’s getting kind of embarrassing, Channie.”

Nothing would feel more satisfying than giving his apprentice a hard kick in the ass, but he’d rather let Minho tattoo a pink unicorn on his ass than show Hyunjin how well-aimed those jabs had been. Hyunjin was clearly spending too much time with Minho, learning exactly how to push all of Chan’s buttons. Still, there was enough pride left in Chan for him to keep his voice purposefully calm – almost bored-sounding – when he replied. "So have you and Minho, if I remember correctly.”

He didn’t turn around to look at Hyunjin, making a conscious effort to focus on the preparations for Jisung’s piercing instead. And if he was honest the real distraction was sitting right in front of him in all his shirtless glory, watching his and Hyunjin’s exchange with an amused smile and almost smug gleam in his eyes.

“That’s because Jisung won’t even take our suggestions seriously! He barely looked at the last sketch I drew up for him.”

All the teasing had gone out of Hyunjin’s voice, replaced by something that sounded a whole lot like hissed exasperation. Chan was honest enough to admit that the sound of it did wonders for his mood.

“Maybe he’d already be running around with one of my tattoos, if he actually bothered looking at them.”

“Yeah, right.” Jisung didn’t even bother hiding his scoff and Hyunjin rounded on him with an indignant squawk.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Also, I don’t appreciate that tone, young man!”

“We were born in the same year, so shut up. And what it means is that all of Chan’s designs are fucking amazing and the only reason I haven’t let him tattoo me yet is because I have something very specific in mind for my first one. And no offense Hyunjin, but there’s no way someone like you could figure it out.”

Chan barely registered Hyunjin’s dangerously low “Someone like me?” His mind was still stuck on the way the _all of Chan’s designs are fucking amazing_ had rolled so matter-of-factly off Jisung’s tongue. Pride was a soft, warm glow in his chest, before he processed the rest of Jisung’s sentence and his thoughts came to a sudden, screeching halt.

“Hold up,” Chan cut off the two younger men, most definitely preventing a petty argument in the making, as he pinned down Jisung with a heavy scowl. “Are you telling me you already know what you want as your first tattoo?”

“Of course. I figured it out pretty much right after you asked me about getting one.”

For a few seconds Chan was too stunned to speak, before the outrage shooting through him unlodged the words stuck in his throat. “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

“I’m waiting for you to figure it out yourself. Consider it a test of sorts. As soon as you figure out my design, you’re worthy of tattooing me,” Jisung answered, looking as if he didn’t have a care in the word, with his weight resting on the arms braced slightly behind himself and his lips tipped up on one side. “You’re sure taking your sweet-ass time though.”

He barely registered Hyunjin’s gleeful laughter. For the second time this conversation Chan found himself at a total loss for words, staring at Jisung with his mouth agape and hands frozen where they’d been reaching for the disinfectant swipes. It had been two years since Chan started coming up with designs for Jisung, thinking the younger man just couldn’t decide on one. And now the kid was telling him he’d known what he wanted all long and was simply waiting for Chan to clue in?

_Un-fucking-believable._

“I can’t fucking believe you.”

And Jisung? He just sat there, looking at Chan with the most innocent smile imaginable. Or he would have, if only the effect hadn’t been completely ruined by the mischief lurking in his eyes.

So if Chan was just a tiny bit late to warn Jisung when he pierced him a few minutes later, needle going through the kid’s nipple the second the disinfectant had enough time to work its magic, then it was 100% the brat’s own fault. And so was the satisfied, slightly evil smile pulling at his lips at Jisung’s hissed curse.

“Ruthless,” came Hyunjin’s almost awed whisper from right beside him.

⧫⧫⧫

Knowing Jisung actually had something specific in mind for his tattoo changed things. Sure, Chan had made it a point to come up with designs that would suit him, but if Jisung had known what kind of tattoo he’d wanted for almost two years now, then that meant it obviously had a special meaning.

Chan stared down at the near-finished drawing on his tablet and realized, with a wave of regret, that this wouldn’t be it. It was a damn shame because he was really proud of it. He’d been working on it for quite a while now and he knew Jisung would love it. _Chan_ loved it, felt his fingertips tingle with the urge to see it tattooed across Jisung’s skin. So even though he knew there was a 99% chance of the design getting rejected, he lowered his pen back to the screen and started adding the last details. Leaving it unfinished just didn’t feel right.

Neither Minho nor him had any customers scheduled for the next thirty minutes and he could hear his best friend buzzing around at his own station, probably tidying things up before his next appointment. He was too focused on his drawing to notice when the noises eventually cut off or clue in on the footsteps approaching him. Minho moved like a damn cat, damn near impossible to hear when he didn’t want to be noticed, so Chan had a lot of experience with being snuck up on. Which was the only reason he didn’t jump out of his skin at the sudden presence at his right shoulder.

“That’s a good one.” The soft-spoken words weren’t exactly overflowing with praise, but Chan had known Minho long enough to recognize the thread of genuine appreciation underlying his seemingly casual comment. “For Jisung?”

That was enough to have Chan looking up in surprise. “It is. How’d you guess?”

He didn’t think he’d been overly obvious with the design this time, the stylized sun reminiscent of a conversation they’d had several weeks ago, when Jisung had stayed up with Chan during one of his frustratingly sleepless nights. The younger man had stuck to his side despite Chan’s reassurances that he was fine on his own, the way he so often did whenever the tattoo artist’s insomnia reared its head, and exhaustion had made both of them a little too honest.

“You have a special style when it comes to your designs for him.”

That was news to Chan and he found himself at a momentary loss for words as his brain tried to work through the unexpected revelation. Before he could even begin to come to terms with it, Minho’s eyes lit up with an alarming amount of mischief. Chan was very familiar with that look and prepared himself to hate every single word about to come out of his best friend’s mouth.

“I call it ‘absolutely whipped’ with a sprinkle of love sickness and bumbling adoration.”

He’d been prepared and yet the words made him want to crawl under the table and chuck his pen at Minho in equal measures. Judging by the happy cackle his best friend let out at his expression, he was well aware of the fact and very proud of himself.

“No seriously, you’re a horrible perfectionist, but the only times I see you redoing the same perfectly fine line five times is when you work on something for Jisung.”

Well that hit uncomfortably close to home. He felt seen in a way that would have made him feel anxious with anyone other than Minho, but still he found himself scrambling to explain. “I just want it to be-”

“Perfect. I know.” Minho’s eyes were startlingly kind for a moment, before his gaze sharpened in a way Chan had learned to fear a long time ago. “And that last bit of shading you just redid god knows how many times is perfectly fine the way it is, so don’t you dare erase it again. Seeing you delete it over and over again is giving me secondhand anxiety.”

The words startled an involuntary laugh out of Chan. He had no trouble reading the care hidden beneath the seemingly scathing remark and it made him take a mental step back and regard his piece with a more clinical look.

Minho was right. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the last detail he’d added to the design. It looked damn good. It looked _finished_ and no amount of over-thinking was going to improve the piece at this point.

“Thanks.”

A quiet hum and short squeeze of Chan’s nape was the only reply he got before Minho stepped away and quietly returned to his own station. And yet it had the tiny, proud smile on Chan’s face growing a little bigger, something like quiet contentment settling in his chest. Scribbling his initials into the corner, his pen automatically kept sweeping across the screen, adding the simple and small drawing of a sleeping, curled-up wolf to his signature. It was something he’d been doing since high-school, Minho and Changbin comparing him to a sleepy canine on a regular basis, and the habit had simply stuck.

With a last look and satisfied nod, Chan saved his design to Jisung’s folder, flipped the cover of tablet shut and straightened out of his slightly hunched over position with a partly pained, partly relieved groan. He had a scar cover-up to get ready for.

⧫⧫⧫

“Can you stop playing sad puppy for a few minutes and grab the basket with the clean laundry from the living room?” Chan threw over his shoulder and added his only pair of black jeans without rips to the pile of clothes next to his suitcase, knowing very well that he sounded a lot more annoyed than he actually felt. In reality there was something kind of endearing about the way Jisung was sprawled out on the bed, clutching Chan’s pillow to his chest and watching him pack his suitcase with a reproachful look on his face.

And so was the way he got up without a word, shuffled out of the room – shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit – to return a few moments later with the overflowing laundry basket in his arms. Jisung had barely set the thing down on the floor next to Chan and his suitcase, before he was already climbing back onto bed and curling his arms around the pillow in his lap. Only this time he mirrored Chan’s cross-legged position, instead of melting into the mattress like a cute puddle of sadness.

He’d been trailing behind and hovering around Chan like that for the past two hours, reminding him of a forlorn puppy, and it would have probably been annoying, if it weren’t so freaking adorable.

“I can’t believe you’re just leaving for Vegas like that.”

The way he said it, voice low and betrayed, made it sound like _’I can’t believe you’d stab me in the back like this’_ instead.

“I’ll only be gone for three days, Jisung. Stop sulking.”

“Yeah, but we were supposed to go to Double B’s concert tomorrow! We bought those tickets months ago,” Jisung complained, straightening out of his slouched position and scowling at the way Chan transferred a few t-shirts from the laundry basket to his suitcase.

“Yeah, sucky timing, but it’s not like you have to go alone. Felix is going with you, isn’t he? Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re disappointed you have to go with him instead of me?”

“No, he’s my best friend. Of course I’m excited to go with him, it’s just... I…” Unable to come up with the right words, he simply gave Chan another wounded look, before he let himself fall to the side with a muffled whine. The older man was pretty sure that Jisung was only complaining for the sake of complaining at this point, the way he sometimes did when things didn’t go his way.

“Two of my oldest friends are getting married. Wedding trumps concert. Suck it up, kid.”

Jisung’s baleful huff into Chan’s bunched up blanket made it pretty clear that he didn’t agree. “Who just decides to get married like that? Don’t people plan these things months, if not a year in advance?”

“Not if your names are Kim Dayhun and Son Chaeyoung. Getting married in Vegas on a whim sounds like exactly the kind of thing they’d do. I’m actually surprised they didn’t just go for it and let everyone know once the deed was done. They actually gave people a forty-eight hour notice to get their asses there. That’s a never before seen level of consideration.”

The muffled grumbling coming from the bed sounded suspiciously like “consideration, my ass”, but Chan decided to ignore it in favor of chucking two more black t-shirts into his suitcase. There was no such thing as packing too many shirts. After a few moments even the angry shuffling of the blanket quieted down.

He was in the middle of figuring out how to best position the shoes in his carry on so they’d take up the least amount of space, when he heard the rustle of clothes on sheets behind him. He didn’t pay it too much attention, not until he felt Jisung settle down behind him. The younger man’s legs bracketed him in, raised at the knees and skin showing through the rips in his jeans, before the kid shuffled close enough to press his chest against Chan’s back, band his arms around his stomach and hook his chin over his shoulders. Within seconds he was surrounded by Jisung’s warm scent, wrapped up in the younger man’s embrace and at this point Chan wasn’t even surprised by the immediate quickening of his pulse, the familiar flush of heat at the back of his neck.

He wasn’t actually strong enough to keep himself from reaching back and allowing himself a few passes of his fingers through Jisung’s hair, short nails scratching lightly at his nape and making him whine into Chan’s shoulder. It had Jisung curling himself even tighter around Chan with a full-body tremble, breath hitching and one hand immediately reaching out to run his fingers over the tattoo on Chan’s wrist. For once it hadn’t been a subconscious move and the older man had no problem recognizing it as the request for comfort it was.

“Talk to me. Are you really that bummed out?”

“Not really,” Jisung mumbled, breath hot against the side of his neck and fingers curling tighter around his wrist. “I mean, of course I was looking forward to going to the show with you, so that sucks. But your friends are getting married and of course you have to be there. I bet you’ll have a great time in Vegas. It’s just... it’ll be weird not seeing you for three days and staying at the dorms again.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Chan asked, trying to turn around to get a look at Jisung’s face. He gave up the second he realized the kid wasn’t planning on easing up on the back hug. “You can just stay here. You’ve got a key and the code to the door downstairs. Why would you go back to your dorm and weird stoner roommate when you have this whole place to yourself?”

“So it wouldn’t be weird?”

“Of course not. What the fuck, Jisung? You’re here on your own all the time.”

“Yeah, but those times you’re usually just downstairs working in the shop. It’s different.”

“Only if you’re determined to overthink it. You don’t have to, if the thought freaks you out that much. I’m just saying that I didn’t expect you to go back to your dorm. You’re fine here. It’s... fine,” Chan ended lamely, trying very hard not to let it show how much this meant to him. It was fucking embarrassing how much he wanted Jisung to feel comfortable at his place. How much he wanted him to consider it his _home_.

That last thought, unbidden and powerful, had him snapping his eyes shut in trepidation, ridiculously glad that Jisung couldn’t see his expression. He was letting himself get caught up in fantasies again, wish for things painfully out of reach. So he shoved it all away, pushed down the feelings until he could pretend all of this didn’t matter as much as it actually did. Chan had always been good at pretending.

“Just promise not to let Felix have any sugar or energy drinks if you two come back here after the concert. He’ll already be hyped up enough from the show and I don’t want him wrecking the place.”

That had Jisung breaking out in a full-body giggle and the sudden heaviness in his chest melted under the wave of warmth the sound elicited. And when Jisung moved until their cheeks were pressed together, Chan simply let himself lean against him for a moment, patting the arm still curled around his middle and refusing to think about anything other than the way it made him feel to be held like that.

Treasured, needed and warm.

So incredibly warm.

“Thanks, Chan.”

“No problem, Jisung.”

⧫⧫⧫

**Chan**  
the apartment better still be in one piece

 **Jisung**  
uhm

 **Chan**  
Han Jisung

 **Jisung**  
:)

 **Chan**  
you’re dead meat if something happened to my sound system

 **Jisung**  
:))))))))))))))

⧫⧫⧫

**Jisung**  
u still alive??????

 **Chan**  
yeah  
just busy keeping an eye on the newly-weds  
[image]

 **Jisung**  
aaaaawwwwwwwwwww  
they’re cute  
still mad they stole u for the weekend tho  
so don’t tell them I said that

 **Chan**  
don’t be such a brat

 **Jisung**  
minho taught me to always be myself  
r u saying you don’t love me the way I am????  
:(

 **Chan**  
like I said  
a brat

⧫⧫⧫

**Jisung**  
when r u coming home?

 **Chan**  
I should get back around 8

 **Jisung**  
hurry up

⧫⧫⧫

The relief Chan experienced the second he stepped into the shop was probably a bit out of proportion, but he actually took a second to collect himself as the door swung shut behind him. He wasn’t surprised to see Jisung there, bent over Minho’s sketchbook at the older man’s station. The kid had been texting him almost non-stop ever since he’d landed, clearly impatient for Chan to come back home. Chan had humored him of course – the way he always did – mostly because Jisung’s enthusiasm had made him feel slightly smug and filled to the brim with affection.

Similar to the way he felt now, as he watched Jisung and Minho so absorbed in their conversation, they hadn’t even noticed his arrival. Dressed in one of Chan’s too big hoodies and his usual ripped jeans, lips pursed in concentration and slightly too long hair brushing his brows, Jisung seemed completely immersed in one of Minho’s sketches. The sight of them finally had the strange clamoring in his chest of the past few days settling. Somehow it seemed as if it had been weeks instead of days.

It was the only explanation why it took him so long to notice the swirls of black ink peeking out from the collar of the hoodie Jisung was wearing and stretching up the right side of his neck. For several seconds Chan just stood there and stared, mind unable to process what he was looking at, before it ground to a complete halt.

A tattoo.

There was _a tattoo_ snaking up the side of Jisung’s neck.

For a few, seemingly endless moments Chan was completely unable to put a name to the sudden, sharp sensation spreading through his chest. Instead he just stood there – fingers tingling, mind alarmingly blank – and stared at the black lines and reddened skin of the kid’s neck.

 _Jealousy_ , his slow mind provided him with the right term after a sluggish scramble. That heavy emotion in his chest was pure jealousy, with a side of acute loss, and Chan was helpless to do anything but stand there and let it swallow him whole.

Jisung had actually done it. He’d gone and let someone else – Minho, judging by the familiar curves of those inky lines – give him his first tattoo and Chan really wished it didn’t feel like such a betrayal. Especially since he had no right to feel that way. Jisung had never actually promised he’d be the one to give him his first tattoo. Their deal had never been about that. It had only ever been about the fact that Jisung wouldn’t let _Chan_ tattoo him until he came up with the right design. He’d never made any promises that other people wouldn’t get a shot at it as well. It was his body and he could do whatever he wanted with it. Just because Jisung had rejected Minho’s and Hyunjin’s - mostly joking - offers in the past didn’t mean he was honor-bound to keep doing it. Maybe he’d finally lost patience with Chan, maybe he’d simply fallen in love at first sight with one of Minho’s sketches. Which wasn’t such a far-fetched idea, considering his best friend was damn good at what he did.

Chan just couldn’t believe the kid and Minho hadn’t even bothered to tell him about it.

Screw that. Chan didn’t care how selfish and ridiculous it was, the one thing he truly couldn’t comprehend was that Jisung had actually let someone other than him put a tattoo gun to his skin for the first time. It was the one thing his mind and heart kept tripping over.

The twisting in his stomach only got stronger, the longer he looked at the tattoo and even though a part of him wanted nothing more than to fly across the room and demand to know what the fuck was going on, a bigger part of him simply wanted to sneak upstairs and lick his wounds in peace before he had to face anyone.

But since fate clearly hated Chan’s guts, Hyunjin chose that exact moment to step out of the back rooms, face lighting up with a bright smile as he caught sight of Chan standing just a few steps into the shop. “Chan, you’re back!”

Jisung’s head snapped up almost violently at Hyunjin’s shout of welcome and the second his gaze connected with Chan’s, joy so intense, he looked almost radiant with it, burst across his face. It took him maybe three seconds to come flying across the room and tackle Chan with a bone-crushing hug, exclamations of “you’re finally back, holy shit, you’ve been gone forever” muffled against Chan’s shoulder. Any other day the joyous greeting would have probably had Chan on the brink of exploding from a mix of happiness and embarrassment, but the shock of seeing someone else’s tattoo on the kid was actually starting to make him feel oddly paralyzed.

Over Jisung’s shoulder he watched Minho give him a one-sided smirk, felt the kid give him a last enthusiastic squeeze, before he pulled back with that happy, gum-revealing smile still firmly in place. It wasn’t until that moment that Chan realized it was possible to feel heart-broken and a second away from bursting at the seams with affection at the same time.

It took a herculean effort to unglue his tongue from the roof of his mouth, as he watched Jisung’s smile starting to fray at the edges, clearly picking up on the fact that something wasn’t quite right.

“I really didn’t peg you as the flame tattoo type,” Chan replied, instead of giving a proper greeting, his mind unable to move past the disbelief spreading inside of him. His voice sounded strangely hollow, but a lot steadier than he’d expected and the urge to run his thumb over the inky flames licking up the side of Jisung’s neck was so strong, he had to curl his right hand into a fist to keep himself from reaching out.

Jisung on the other hand was clearly taken aback by the lack of greeting from Chan, smile melting off his face with a confused tilt of his head, his wide eyes blinking up at him without comprehension. “What?”

The horribly masochistic part of him wanted to return his gaze to the tattoo on Jisung’s neck. One glimpse from all the way across the room had been enough to recognize the style as Minho’s – at this point Chan would be able to recognize his friend’s and business partner’s style in his sleep. And even though he knew what an amazing tattoo artist he was, that insistent part was urging him to make sure he had done a good job. But it was the sensible part of him that kept his gaze firmly directed up at the confused expression on Jisung’s face. He needed a moment.

Hell, he needed a lot more than that before he’d be able to stomach looking at the tattoo spreading across Jisung’s skin again.

“You know,” Chan forced himself to continue and he was amazed by how conversational he sounded, the calm drawl of his voice such a stark contrast to the mess of emotions slowly sinking deeper into his chest, “if this was the tattoo you wanted all along, it’s probably a good idea you just went ahead and let Minho do it for you. I wouldn’t have gotten this right in ten years. You’d be forty and I’d still be trying to come up with the right design for you.”

That seemed to finally do the trick, Jisung’s eyes going wide with sudden realization. The way his hand jolted up, fingers slapping down over his tattoo with an audible smack, had Chan wincing in empathy, knowing how sensitive the skin had to be. But Jisung didn’t even react, eyes simply growing wider and mouth opening without a single sound coming out. Until, “NO!”

Chan’s reflexes had him stumbling a shocked step back and by the time he regained his balance the kid was reaching for him, fingers curling around his arm hard enough for the older man to suck in a hissed breath.

“What the hell, Chan? You call yourself a tattoo artist, but you can’t tell a sharpie drawing from a real tattoo?”

He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, his god-given stupidity or Jisung’s proximity that had his brain tripping over the complaint. But for some reason the younger man’s exasperated words only seemed to get more tangled up in each other, the longer Chan tried to make sense of them.

Sharpie drawing?

Sluggishly lowering his gaze from Jisung’s wide-eyed, urgent expression to his neck, he felt his body’s automatic need to recoil from the sight of the black lines and reddened skin. Almost at the same moment something clicked in the back of his mind.

Staring at the flames at the side of Jisung’s neck, Chan tried to make sense of what the ugly jealousy inside of him told him he was seeing and what his eyes were _actually_ showing him. This close the lines of the tattoo didn’t appear nearly as distinct as they should have been, sloppy in a way Minho would have never let happen. It looked like a hastily drawn sketch, rather than-

_Oh._

He was a fucking idiot.

“Is that…,” Chan made an attempt to speak, but had to clear his throat twice to get rid of the strange thickness in his voice. “Did Minho use the wrong marker?”

But he was already aware of the answer to his question and relief so profound he almost missed Jisung’s reply flooded his chest as realization slowly settled in.

“Yeah,” Jisung grumbled, lips pushed out in what Chan knew to be an automatic pout. “He had his doubts about the positioning for his next customer’s tattoo and I was hanging out at the shop anyway, so I told him he could just try it out on me first. But I always forget that the normal markers make my skin break out like this. You automatically use the ones without the… uhm… you know, the stuff in it that I can’t remember or pronounce, so I didn’t think about reminding him that my skin and the regular sharpies hate each other. By the time my skin started to act up he was basically done.”

“And you didn’t immediately go wash it off?”

“You sent me a text that said you were almost home!” His tone insinuated that Chan was an idiot for even suggesting that something like a minor allergic reaction would keep him from being there when Chan made it back.

“You’re an idiot, Han Jisung.”

The affronted look on the young man’s face actually managed to pull a smile from him, despite the fact that his heart was still beating at double speed inside his chest.

“Excuse me? I’m not the one who just mistook a sketch for a tattoo.”

Chan just barely held back a flustered splutter. Now that he’d had a few moments to get over the shock, embarrassment slowly, but steadily started to push away the relief that had weakened his knees. “Give me a break! You were all the way across the room and I didn’t get a proper look at it. I was in shock, okay?” He could actually feel the heat from his neck rising up to his face. “And your skin’s reaction to the marker made it look like a relatively new tattoo. It looked pretty convincing at first glance.”

Jisung didn’t look impressed. “Did you actually think I’d let someone else give me my first tattoo?” He seemed downright insulted by the notion, brows pulled together, eyes stormy and nose wrinkled unhappily.

Chan’s awkward chuckle was saturated with so much relief, he actually felt himself go a little bit light-headed. “What do I know? You’ve been vetoing my designs for almost two years now. You losing patience with me isn’t that much of a stretch.”

If possible, that only seemed to deepen the frown on Jisung’s face.

“No one but you is going to give me that tattoo. I thought you knew.”

Chan hadn’t.

Desperately wishing for something and knowing it to be a fact were two completely different things, after all. But standing in front of Jisung now, the kid’s gaze not faltering for a second and hand still curled around Chan’s bicep, there was really nothing else for him to do but believe.

“Alright.”

Not quite able to hold the prolonged eye-contact, he let his eyes flit away from Jisung’s almost hypnotizingly earnest gaze and found himself meeting Minho’s sharp eyes. There was something knowing in his eyes, a look that spoke of satisfaction, amusement and pity in equal measures. Chan felt exposed in a way that only his best friend managed to achieve with a single glance. The wave of scalding embarrassment at the realization that his best friend and Hyunjin had been watching and listening to their entire conversation was almost strong enough to have him lowering his gaze. Instead he steeled himself, purposefully held Minho’s gaze for a few endless seconds, before he turned to Hyunjin and pointed a warning finger at him. Their apprentice still looked like he’d enjoyed every second of the show.

That was as far as he got, before the mortification inside of him overwhelmed him with the urge to escape. “I’m beat. I barely got any sleep this weekend. I’ll tell you about the wedding from hell tomorrow, alright?” A fleeting look back at Jisung revealed his earnest expression hadn’t wavered in the slightest. “Let’s get that marker off your neck.”

Reaching out for Jisung’s hand to lead him upstairs wasn’t necessary. Neither was linking their fingers when the younger man initiated it without a second of hesitation. But after the emotional clusterfuck of the past several minutes he was in need of some definite comfort. And nothing was quite as settling as the pressure and warmth of Jisung’s palm against his own.

So what if Chan led him straight to his bathroom and made sure to personally remove every last trace of Minho's sketch from Jisung’s neck? The kid certainly didn’t seem to mind, pliant in a way that reminded Chan of Jisung right after waking up. Spreading his thighs where he was sitting on Chan’s vanity to make room for the older man to step close, he wordlessly let Chan tilt his head here and there to carefully brush the cotton pads soaked in rubbing alcohol across his sensitive skin. And for the few minutes it took Chan to wipe away every last mark, Jisung didn’t take his eyes off him for a single moment.

The air between them felt oddly heavy and Chan blamed the aftermath of his shock for the way he struggled to find his usual calm. He felt vulnerable in a way he so rarely let himself be in Jisung’s presence, scraped raw and entirely off-kilter. Chan probably needed a few moments to himself, just to make sure he didn’t trip up and reveal a little too much of the mayhem inside of him, but he couldn’t quite shake the reluctancy he felt at the thought of leaving Jisung’s side.

Giving the side of Jisung’s neck a last careful inspection, he threw the cotton pad into the trash and gave the younger man’s thigh a quick pat. “There, all done.”

He was stopped from moving away by Jisung’s fingers curled into the front of his shirt.

“I meant what I said earlier.” Jisung’s voice was unusually small, but his tone seemed almost urgent. And part of Chan suddenly had no problem with the thought of high-tailing it out of the room. He wasn’t sure how much more his shattered self-control could take at the moment. “I’m not going to let someone else give me my first tattoo. I want you to do it. I want you to be the one to put _all_ my tattoos on me.”

The look on Jisung’s face was so open, so fucking earnest, it felt a little bit like he’d reached into Chan’s chest and was squeezing his heart in his fist. It was the only explanation for how much he was hurting at the moment.

It didn’t explain the surge of possessiveness at Jisung’s words though. The way he felt his throat closing up and hands curling into fists to curb the sheer overwhelming urge to reach out and spread his palm across the side of Jisung’s neck he’d just cleared of sharpie marks. Those feelings were all on Chan and he realized with a frisson of alarm that he didn’t quite feel up to pushing them down the way he usually did.

It had been so much easier to deal with this conversation before. Chan still reeling from the emotional sucker-punch his own stupid brain had dealt him, Minho and Hyunjin right there to witness it all and Jisung looking low-key offended, rather than utterly beseeching. But with Chan standing in the v of Jisung’s spread thighs, Jisung looking extra small in Chan’s hoodie, the younger man’s fingers curled into Chan’s tshirt and his raw confession still lingering between them, the feelings of affection and writhing possessiveness simply refused to be shoved away.

Chan knew he’d betrayed himself when Jisung’s eyes went even wider with shock, realization dawning on his face. His knee-jerk, panicked attempt to pull back was once again thwarted by the grip Jisung still had on his shirt. Then the younger man crossed his legs behind the tattoo artist for good measure, the look on his face turning into a mix of urgency and wonder. “Chan.”

Maybe he should have realized it downstairs at the shop. There was a limit to everything. And the way he’d reacted to the sight of someone else’s tattoo on Jisung should have made it pretty clear that he was closer to the end of his line than he was willing to admit. Doubt and self-preservation were only so strong and he’d known that one day they would probably crumble under the force of feelings he was trying to contain inside of himself. The plea in Jisung’s voice, when he spoke Chan’s name, was just the final nail in the coffin of Chan’s self-control.

When Jisung leaned in, Chan knew what was about to happen and there was no way he was going to stop it.

He knew how soft Jisung’s lips felt, had been on the receiving end of Jisung’s spontaneous kisses enough times to permanently sear the feeling into his brain. But those had been quick pecks, surprise attacks before Chan had the chance to duck out of the way.

And this wasn’t anything like it.

The first contact of their lips had Jisung melting into him with a total lack of shame or hesitation. His lips parted for Chan so easily, so willingly, he didn’t even register his hands had moved to grip Jisung’s waist until he swallowed the younger man’s little sound of approval. And it wasn’t until his fingers brushed warm skin that Chan realized Jisung wasn’t wearing anything under his hoodie. The discovery had him deepening the kiss with an almost pained groan. Chan’s reaction seemed enough to finally convince Jisung to give up the iron grip he had on Chan’s shirt, just to throw his arms over his shoulders, curl his fingers into Chan’s hair instead and get as close as humanly possible without merging into one singular being. Chan was all too happy to help by pulling Jisung to the very edge of the vanity, hands tightening their hold on his hips and making Jisung feed another whine into his mouth.

It shouldn’t be surprising for Jisung to kiss like this - without restraint, so eager and not even attempting to hide how much he enjoyed it. Chan lightly sucking at his bottom lip had him trembling where he was completely pressed up against him, the first lick of Chan’s tongue had him attempting to move even closer with a tiny sound that had something hot and alive flaring low in his belly. His taste was as new as his scent was familiar - citrusy body wash, warm skin, Chan’s detergent and that sharp hint of rubbing alcohol he’d used on the drawing on his neck before.

Chan soaked it all in, let himself experience the high of having Jisung turn more pliant with every brush of Chan’s lips. Allowed himself to enjoy the way his head fell back with a shuddering gasp when Chan let his lips wander down and placed a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath the line of his jaw. By the time the older man had drawn a path of kisses down his neck and was mouthing carefully at his collarbones, Jisung was a trembling mess in his arms. Feeling light-headed and overwhelmed himself, Chan raised his head back up, taking in Jisung’s flushed face and dazed expression and allowed himself a last, barely-there kiss to the younger man’s kiss-swollen lips. It seemed to pull Jisung out of his momentary daze and and even though he didn’t drop the hold he had on Chan’s hair, the tremors going through his body seemed to ease and his shaky breathing evened out, while they just stayed where they were and looked at each other.

“This means you like me, right?”

Jisung’s voice was far from steady, but he didn’t seem to care at all. Instead he was looking at Chan as if he was attempting to see straight into his soul. It was impossible not to give him the truth he so clearly needed to hear from him. A truth Chan had been hiding for close to two years now.

“So much.” It was barely more than a whisper, but Chan might as well have shouted it. Never before had something felt as terrifying and freeing at the same time. Then he noticed the way his confession had Jisung’s entire face coming alive – eyes bright, lips parted and just barely faded color flooding back to his cheeks. All of a sudden breathing seemed a little bit harder again.

“Why did you never _say_ anything. You must have realized how much I like you. I don’t think I could have been any more obvious.”

“I didn’t think... I never...” And there Chan was, stuttering and at a loss for the right words, while Jisung didn’t seem to have any trouble voicing his thoughts. So much for being the older, more mature one.

“I really thought you were acting oblivious on purpose, that it was your way of letting me down gently. Turns out you’re just an idiot.” His voice and face turned downright sulky at that last sentence.

“Fuck, Jisung. I was just waiting for you to realize that I’m not actually that great of a person. It just doesn’t make sense for you to like someone like me.”

Chan felt his chest clench uncomfortably when his words had the younger man’s expression morphing into something almost angry, eyebrows pulling together and lips drawing into a flat line.

“Why do you keep doing that? Why do you sell yourself short like that?”

“I don’t-”

“Yes you do!” Jisung’s voice was all frustration, sharper than he’d ever heard it before, and it effectively wiped Chan’s retort from his brain. “It makes me sad and pisses me off at the same time! I wish you could see yourself like I do, the way I’ve looked at you from the beginning. I’ve been attracted to you from the moment I walked into your tattoo shop with Felix and saw you sitting there at your station with that stupid dimpled smile of yours. I can remember the exact way my stomach fluttered when I first heard your voice, the way my heart fucking flipped over in my chest the first time you spoke to me, how my mouth dried up every time I noticed the tattoos showing through the rips in your jeans. I know you don’t consider yourself especially attractive, but you are. You’re fucking gorgeous and you make me ache every time I look at you.”

Chan had trouble drawing in his next breath, but then Jisung was talking again and it just didn’t fucking matter.

“I know you think you’re boring, but that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You make me laugh all the damn time and I could listen to you talk all day. About anything! Your work, your sketches, the music you like, how much you want to kick your neighbors’ asses on a regular basis, why coffee orders longer than ten words should be banned.”

By the looks of it Jisung was only just getting into the swing of it and Chan really didn’t know if he could take any more, his heart so full it felt maybe a second away from bursting.

“You’re so fucking talented, you treat me better than anyone else ever has and you’re always there for Minho and Changbin. You took Hyunjin under your wing and you’re making it possible for him to live his dream, when no one else would even give him a chance to be anything but the gay boy thrown out by his parents. _And you never expect anything in return_.” A harsh breath, before the resolve on Jisung’s face turned into something infinitely soft. “You’re the most amazing person I know and I wish you could see that.”

And Chan had always thought Jisung was the one susceptible to praise, the one to go all soft and pliant in the face of Chan letting his true fondness for him shine through. But in that moment Chan realized that maybe it had been the other way around all along. There was a bubble of emotion swelling in his chest – something volatile, something that might just end with him bursting into utterly humiliating tears – and the older man didn’t think there was any stopping it. Maybe he really had been the one who needed to hear how much he meant to Jisung.

“But we can work on that. I’ll tell you again and again, as many times as you need to hear it, until you believe it yourself. Until you love yourself at least a fraction as much as I love you.”

And for all the emotions now slowly rising up his throat, words simply wouldn’t come. He just stood there, eyes wide, fingers clutching Jisung’s hips and his whole body trembling, despite his desperate efforts to keep perfectly still. There was resolve burning in Jisung’s eyes, a kind of certainty. As if something had clicked inside of him. As if he finally understood what Chan had been incapable of voicing out loud.

“I’m in love with you, Chan. I’ve been in love with you for a really long time and I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to. And even then you’ll have to work really hard to get rid of me.”

Completely overwhelmed, Chan simply moved in for another kiss, almost too gentle to feel real, before he let his forehead rest against Jisung’s. And because he was a complete disaster, the thing that came out of his mouth next was a slightly strangled sounding, “you look really cute in my hoodie.”

Somehow - miraculously - Jisung seemed to recognize it for what it was and the smile on his face was big and clearly delighted. “It smells good. And I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

⧫⧫⧫

Chan woke to a warm, heavy weight on top of him, blinking against the light streaming in through the window because they could never remember to draw the curtains before they fell into bed. He wasn’t surprised to find Jisung straddling his lower belly completely naked, hands braced against his pecs and smiling down at him with a smile that was way too adorable for the way he’d woken him up. Turned out being Chan’s boyfriend had made Jisung completely and utterly shameless when it came to these things. He’d never been shy about physical affection when he’d wanted it, but the last two months of dating had turned him into an absolute terror. Chan couldn’t say he minded much.

As long as he kept the shenanigans to the privacy of their apartment. The success rate for that still had quite a bit of room for improvement. But they’d only been dating for a couple of months, there was time to work on that. Minho certainly didn’t seem to mind all the blackmail material they provided him with in the meantime.

“Morning, baby.”

The raspy greeting and Chan’s lazy, knowing smile had Jisung’s cheeks flooding with color. Had him squirming with both embarrassment and stirring arousal. It was so easy to rile him up with that particular pet name, something Chan exploited maybe a bit too often, so he let his palms settle on Jisung’s thighs as a silent apology.

“I’m gonna kill Hyunjin for telling you about that.”

“I think you deserved it for calling him out on staring at Minho’s ass that day.”

"He stares at his ass all the time. He was gonna get caught sooner or later," Jisung grumbled with a sulky huff, but settled down as soon as Chan started petting his thigh in long, careful sweeps. It had the younger man melting just a little on top of him and the movement made Jisung’s nipple piercing sparkle in the late morning light. Chan’s gaze was drawn to the tattoo several inches above it though. Reaching out, Chan softly traced his fingers along the recently healed lines of the sleeping wolf over Jisung’s heart, smile blooming on his face when it made his boyfriend’s breath hitch the way it always did.

“You ready for that second tattoo?”

The question had Jisung perking right up where he was perched on Chan’s abs, eyes flashing with so much excitement, it sparked the same emotion in the older man’s chest at the thought of Jisung’s appointment that afternoon. “I’ve been ready ever since you showed me your sketch,” Jisung proclaimed enthusiastically, before the look in his eyes turned a little judging. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t figure out what I wanted for that first tattoo. I still can’t believe I had to tell you in the end.”

“How was I supposed to figure that out? That’s barely a step up from getting my name tattooed on your ass.”

There was a moment of silence, before Jisung raised his finger up to his lip in an exaggerated thinking pose. “Hmm, you know... that’s not a bad idea, actually. Minho would probably do it for free.”

Jisung’s cackle was sharp and bright when Chan wrestled him down into the blankets, but his fingers were gentle when he tangled them into Chan’s hair and let the older man shut him up with his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> It's only been a year since I last posted or finished a story, but I somehow finished this in less than a week. Feral brain makes a great writing companion, who would have thought?
> 
> Anyway, please leave me a comment if you liked it! And of course kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Here's my very multi-fandom [twitter](https://twitter.com/TeatimeTaemint).


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